Elixir Of Life
by greyeyes0
Summary: Albus Dumbledore is a liar. He didn't destroy the Philosopher's Stone but hid the truth for Harry's own good. Harry inherits it on his 18th birthday, and Lucius Malfoy sets his son one simple mission: befriend Harry Potter. Not easy when he's your long time rival. Featuring the return of annoying!Draco, the persistent git. Eventual H/D.
1. Chapter 1

**Elixir Of Life**

**_Chapter One_**

Harry sat in Ron's bedroom, rubbing his temples with his fingertips. He relished the quiet of Ron's room compared to the rest of the house and the noisy inhabitants. All he needed was some peace to think-  
_Tap.  
Tap. _  
He scowled, strode over to the door and opened it. There was no one there. Frowning, he turned back into the room when he saw it.

A regal, important-looking owl was silhouetted in the summer sun, tapping insistently at the window, a letter in its beak. Harry swiftly crossed the room and opened the stiff window with some difficulty; the owl flew in immediately and perched on Ron's bedpost. Harry took the letter from it, and it irritably nipped his hand and flew off.

Swearing angrily at it, Harry slammed the window and sat down on the orange bedspread with the letter. He instantly recognised the insignia on the seal and his frown only deepened; why what were the Ministry contacting him about _now_? Ever since the war ended two months ago, the Ministry had constantly pestered him for statements, public appearances and questions.

He extracted the letter and opened it.

_Dear Mr Harry James Potter,_

_As of this day (__**July 31st**__) you are entitled to receive a final bequest from the late __**Albus Percival Wilfric Brian Dumbledore**__. You were unable to receive the __**item**__(s) prior to this date as the __**item**__(s) were classed as ERV: Extremely Rare and Valuable. Such items can only be possessed by someone of the age of 18 or over._

_Please see overleaf for your __**item**__(s).  
If you wish to collect your __**item**__(s) you may do so by visiting the __**Department**__**of Magical Inheritance**__ on or by__** September 31st**__._

_Hoping you are well,  
Helena Fletcher  
Department of Magical Inheritance _

Heart racing, Harry quickly flipped over the page. His hands shook so violently it was hard to read.

_**Item**__(s) for collection by __**Harry James Potter**__ at the request of __**Albus**__**Percival Wilfric Brian Dumbledore**__ at age __**18**__._

_• (1) Philosopher's Stone_

Please retain this letter to present as identification upon your collection.

The letter slipped through Harry's fingers and fluttered to the floor. Harry didn't notice, his mind reeling.

Dumbledore had told him he had destroyed the Philosopher's Stone in his first year. Harry had took his word for it at the time and let it go without much further thought; but now it appeared it had been yet another of Dumbledore's lies he told to keep Harry safe.

Harry was barely aware of picking up the letter and leaving the room; he moved as if in a trance through the house to the tiny, cramped kitchen where Ron, George, Charlie, Ginny and their parents were gathered, chopping vegetables and chatting.

"Harry dear, I was thinking of having your birthday tea at seven- whatever's the matter?" Mrs Weasley asked, turning slightly pale at the look on Harry's face.

"Nothing bad," Harry assured her, slowly coming back to his senses at the anxious look on her face. "Just a shock, that's all…"

"What is it?" Ron asked, putting down the carrot he was chopping and frowning. Harry wordlessly placed the letter on the wooden table for all of them to read.

Aside from a slight rustle when the paper was turned over to read the other side, the kitchen was silent.

"Blimey." Ron said finally, turning to Harry with an awestruck expression on his face. "The Philosopher's Stone, Harry…!" he trailed off wistfully.

"I thought Dumbledore destroyed it?" George asked, frowning at the letter and glancing up at Harry for confirmation. Harry shrugged.

"So did I. Guess it was just another lie." he said tonelessly. He felt disappointed in and betrayed by Dumbledore all over again. He looked at Mr Weasley, who didn't look at all surprised by the letter.

Catching Harry's look, he grimaced apologetically.  
"Yes, I already knew." he said. "But I wasn't allowed to tell you, Ministry guidelines and all that…"

"It's fine." Harry said quietly. The kitchen was silent for a few moments.

Mrs Weasley beamed at him.  
"What a lovely present, Harry dear! It's marvelous really, they're so incredibly rare…" she too trailed off in thought, but her face distinctly lacked the wistful look her sons' had. Harry marveled at her capacity to be selflessly happy for him.

Ron gave Harry a meaningful look as his family busied themselves with cooking once more, and Harry swiftly followed him out of the kitchen into the sunny garden.

"Are you going to get it?" Ron asked the minutes they were outside. Harry nodded.

"I'll go to the Ministry tomorrow." he said quietly. He'd already decided he wanted it away from the Ministry and in his charge as soon as possible. Ron gazed out over the fields silently, seemingly contemplating a stone that would grant immortality.

He voiced this thought. Harry rubbed his temples; he wasn't sure what to make of the entire immortality issue.

"It's not really an issue, is it?" Ron said, surprised. "It's amazing…" Harry caught the envious look in his eyes, and felt a pang of guilt. Ever since he'd met Ron he'd always been slightly better off, materially speaking. He had more clothes, more money and now he had been granted immortality. If he were Ron he'd probably hate himself.

"I'll share it with you and Hermione." he said compulsively, and Ron's head whipped round to look at him.  
"You serious?" he gasped, his face flushed.

Harry nodded with more enthusiasm than he'd felt all day. "Nicholas Flamel shared it with his wife Perenelle, didn't he? I'm not going to live forever by myself am I?" he pushed Ron playfully.

"But…" Ron frowned. "Won't you want to share it with your wife?" Harry knew he was thinking of the girl behind them in the Weasley kitchen. Avoiding his eyes, he gazed out over the sunset.

"Don't count your Snitches before you've caught them." he reminded Ron. "I don't even have a girlfriend."  
Ron shifted uncomfortably.

"Yeah, about that…" He glanced quickly at Harry, apparently trying to summon courage to say whatever it was. "I thought… you know, after the war… you and Ginny would… sort of pick up where you left off, y'know? But…"

Harry swallowed; he didn't want to have this conversation right now. How could he tell Ron he didn't remotely fancy his sister anymore?

"I don't really feel the same about her anymore." he said bravely, still staring out at the setting sun.

"Oh."

"She's a great friend, don't me get wrong-" Harry said quickly, but Ron interrupted him.

"No, mate I get it. You don't need to explain to me." He clapped Harry on the shoulder and turned to meander back into the house.

Harry remained out in the garden, thinking for a long time after Ron left.

.-.

"You can accompany Arthur into work today to pick up your Stone." Mrs Weasley said over the sausages the next morning. Mr Weasley smiled encouragingly at him. Harry smiled back, and Ron piped up next to him.

"Can I go too?" he asked hopefully, and Harry grinned, forcibly reminded of a little child, especially when Ron hissed "Yes!" a moment later.

They left soon after, and Harry was content to listen to Ron's excited babble all the way to the Ministry, inputting the occasional 'mm.' Truth be told, he felt truly nervous about taking the Philosopher's Stone into his possession; it was both wonderful and dangerous and in all likelihood would cast the attention on him he'd been trying so desperately to escape.

"Floor three for us, Harry." Mr Weasley said cheerfully as they stepped into the lift in the Ministry. Harry nodded wordlessly, trying his best to ignore the awed and curious stares he was receiving. He had already been congratulated and thanked for his part in the war five times, no less.

The doors opened with a clang and Mr Weasley stepped out, flanked by Harry and Ron. The carpet was thick and plush here, the light soft and welcoming. After a series of left and right turns Harry doubted he would be able to remember, they arrived at a large welcome desk in a warm lobby.

They stood in front of the desk patiently, waiting for the witch to look her from her paper.  
"Good morning." Mr Weasley said politely when she failed to do so.

"Take a seat." she said without looking up. Ron exhaled loudly, and she looked up sharply. Her eyes immediately fell upon Harry's scar and she gave a start.

"Mr Potter-! What a pleasure! So sorry to have kept you waiting!" she gushed, flustered. "Do you have an appointment or-"

"I'm here to pick up an item." Harry interrupted smoothly, pushing the letter across the glossy desktop. The witch's small eyes scanned over it rapidly, widening considerably when she read what the item was.

"Oh my!" she gasped. "I'll fetch Madam Fletcher right away for you, Mr Potter." she assured him, and she waved her wand and spoke into it.

"Helen, can you please come into the lobby immediately?-"

"I can't right now Susanne, I'm with a client." a voice replied irritably out of nowhere.

"But-" Susanne protested.

"This is _Lucius Malfoy_!" the voice hissed meaningfully and Harry immediately exchanged a dark look with at Ron at the name 'Lucius Malfoy'.Despite their conversion to the right side in the end, Harry had marked all Malfoys as cowardly, petty bullies.

"And this is _Harry Potter_!" Susanne whispered frantically, and within seconds an oak door to their left opened and a blonde witch hurried out, beaming.

"Mr Potter! What a lovely surprise! I'm _so_ sorry to have kept you waiting!"

Susanne the receptionist tried to shove Harry's letter under her nose, but she batted it away impatiently.

"Yes, Susanne I think I'd know why _Harry Potter_ has come here!" she exclaimed, offering Harry a beam that contradicted her irritated tone.

"So…. The Philosopher's Stone, Mr Potter? You're a lucky boy to get it, I'll tell you that."

"_Ahem_," a smooth voice interrupted.

Lucius Malfoy casually walked out of the room Helena had just left, sneering, with a cane tapping loudly by his side.  
His face left Harry in no doubt he'd just heard Helena's words.

"Mr Malfoy, can you possibly excuse me for one moment to talk to Mr  
Potter?" Helena asked him sweetly, turning to the tall man.

"No, I'm afraid I must be getting on." Lucius sighed as his pale eyes roved over Mr Weasley and Ron, before finally narrowing on Harry.

"Do you still want to proceed with your challenge on Madam Black's will-" Helena started, but Lucius cut her off sharply.

"Expect another appointment shortly." he nodded curtly to her as he strode out, his eyes lingering on Harry in a way that Harry did not like one bit.

"Sorry about that." Helena apologised, and beckoned for them to follow her through a door off the lobby.

She placed a hand on the wooden door and the lock melted away, the door swinging open. There was a quiet hum of spells as Harry passed through the doorway; he assumed it detected impostors or intruders.

Mr Weasley and Ron trooped behind him into a tall, narrow room with labelled metal shelves decorated with a wide variety of rare items.

"'P' for 'Potter'" Helena murmured, leading them down the aisle. Harry's head turned rapidly from side-to-side as he tried to take it all in; he glimpsed ornate, antique jewellery, shields emblazoned with coats of arms and even a yellowed human skull.

Ron stared at him, wide eyed.

They stopped after a further minute of walking, and Harry immediately spotted the glittering red stone on the shelf in front of them. The label read:

_(1) Philosopher's Stone  
Property of __**Harry James Potter**_

Helena picked it up delicately between her thumb and forefinger, and passed it to Harry with a smile.

Harry wordlessly took the cold stone in his hands and gazed at its beauty; the way the light reflected hundreds of pretty red sparkles, the way the stone seemed to glow.

"Wow," he and Ron whispered together.

.-.

Draco was sitting by the window, his forehead pressed up on the glass as he watched the rain trickle down it. He heard a distant door slam and he suppressed the shiver provoked daily by that noise.

It meant his father's return.

Quick footsteps made loud taps on the polished wood floor, and Draco jumped in surprise, his muscles moving stiffly after the hours he'd spent motionless. The sound meant his father was paying him a visit; this was most unusual. Lucius rarely graced Draco's wing of the house with his presence.

Draco turned back to the window, watching the drops make their path down the old window.

He had no desire to see or speak to his father; not now, not ever.

However it seemed to be inevitable that he would, as seconds later the door opened and Lucius strode in the room, not bothering to knock.

"Draco." he said loudly. Draco ignored him, closing his eyes.

"Turn around." Lucius said in a cold, commanding tone, and Draco reluctantly opened his eyes and did so.  
Lucius surveyed him coolly.

"Your mother tells me you shut yourself in here all day, yet again." he said, narrowing his eyes as he looked at the books around them.

Draco shrugged indifferently.

"_What is this achieving?_" Lucius hissed angrily. "I have not worked hard for this family so that my only heir can be a worthless disappointment!"

Draco was used to the criticism, being told he wasn't good enough, but the words still stung his proud ego. Nevertheless, he kept his emotionless mask firmly in place.

"But now you have the opportunity to change that." his father said, his eyes gleaming in a familiar, scheming way.

"I shall entrust you with the same task I set you seven years ago. You failed then; but you were young, and I graciously forgave you.

But now you're older, and you've made a lot of mistakes you must make up for Draco. This is your chance. _You will not fail._" he hissed with a malicious sneer, leaning in towards Draco.

Draco stared at him defiantly, determined not to show the terror that was flooding him.

He felt the familiar sick feeling of being entrusted with an important duty for a side he wasn't on; carrying out a task he did not wish to, for fear of his own life - it was like his sixth year all over again.

His father was watching him expectantly, waiting for Draco to crack. But Draco had always been a proud boy; he lifted his chin defiantly.

"What is it?" he asked, a faint sneer on his face.

"You will befriend Harry Potter."

The bottom dropped out of his stomach.

"I-what? _Potter!?_" he gasped, unable to control his emotions or prevent his composure from slipping.

Lucius sneered at him, drinking in Draco's shock and anger; relishing the control he had over Draco.

"You heard. He has something I dearly want - no, I need. You will go to your final year of Hogwarts with every intention of befriending him, and you will succeed this time."

"Or what?" Draco asked, only just managing not to shout.

Lucius smiled menacingly at him.  
"Or prices will be paid." And as he twirled his wand between his fingers, Draco was left in no doubt as to what that price would be.

"I'll do it, Father." he agreed quietly.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Elixir Of Life**

**Chapter Two**

"Anything from the trolley, dears?"

Harry raises his head at the familiar saying, smirking as Ron leaps to his feet in excitement and begins listing all the things he wants. Harry follows, stepping out of the compartment into the chilly corridor of the Hogwarts Express.

"And you, my dear?" The elderly witch croons at him, Ron having satisfied himself by buying an armful of sweets.

"Er- I'll have a packet of Bertie Bott's, some Droobles..."

Harry's gaze drifts upwards as he spoke, and he is startled to see Draco Malfoy has appeared silently behind the witch, his face neutral and bare without his usual sneer. His intense grey eyes, however, are trained on Harry.

"Yes, dear?" The witch prompts him, when Harry does not speak. He jumps; he has forgotten she was there, forgotten what he was about to say.

"Er..." He swiftly searches the trolley with his eyes. The pause grows ever more prolonged, broken only by a dry chuckle. Harry's snaps up to Malfoy, to see - to his surprise - that he was the one to have made the noise. Harry's cheeks flush in irritation.

"Two chocolate frogs, please." he finishes hastily, ignoring Malfoy as he hands over his money.

He looks up at the boy again when the witch asked "How about you, love?"

Malfoy's pale eyes glitter, never wavering from Harry, as he murmurs, "Nothing for me... thank you."

Harry frowns; clearly Malfoy is up to something dodgy. He has to be. Why else would he be suspiciously hanging around him in the corridor, pretending to be waiting for the trolley?

"Potter." Malfoy nods curtly to him, once the witch had toddled off down the train.

"Malfoy," Harry acknowledges briefly, turning to return to the compartment. He jumps as if burned when he feels a light touch on his shoulder, and spins round.

"What?" he asks irritably.

"Potter-" Malfoy's eyes flicker up and down the corridor, apparently checking no one is listening. "I just wanted to make amends with you."

"Make amends?" Harry echoes in disbelief. "With me?"

"Yes, that is what I said." Malfoy agrees easily, with something strangely resembling amusement in his eyes.

"_Why_?" Harry asks, too surprised to input any venom.

Malfoy shrugs slowly and gazes around the small corridor as if hoping to find an adequate reply in the wooden walls.

"I just think we've been through a lot... You know, last year... You saved my life and I saved yours..." he says slowly, and Harry can only stare in disbelief. Is this really Malfoy who is talking? Clearly it was some type of joke.

"I just think we owe it to each other not to be so childish anymore. Put the feud to bed, so to speak."

And to Harry's complete and utter astonishment, _he winks_.

"I don't owe you anything, Malfoy." he manages to get out, before quickly turning on his heel and escaping into the compartment.

But not soon enough to miss the low chuckle.

.-.

It is raining when they arrive in Hogsmeade.

Harry steps off the train first, with Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Neville trailing behind. The first thing he sees when he looked round the platform, much to his irritation, is a soaking wet Draco Malfoy, grinning deviously at him.

"Harry..." Hermione begins worriedly.  
"Why is Malfoy looking at you like that?" Ron finishes, frowning.

"He thinks he's funny," Harry says dismissively, turning away from the dripping and shivering blonde to stalk down the platform, far away from the git.

"Harry! Ginny!" A voice calls out of the gloom, and Harry squints to see the shining hair of another blonde, thankfully Luna this time.

She is sitting aboard a Thestral-drawn carriage with Dean. It is covered with a canopy, and Hermione clambers up gratefully, boosted by Ron's chivalrously offered hand.

Harry smirks at how smarmy Ron is being, and is just lifting a leg to follow Ginny and Neville onto the carriage when a horribly familiar voice echoes out of the dark.

"No more than six to a carriage," Argus Filch leers, brandishing a lantern in Harry's face. He grins a smile full of rotten teeth as he says, "You'll have to go somewhere else, Potter."

Harry scowls at him, absolutely sure Filch has just made that rule up to spite him.

"Where am I meant to go?" He asks in irritation, gesturing around them at the sodden forest.

"Look, there's another carriage right there." Filch points out snidely, pointing a gnarled finger to another hovering ball of light behind.

"I can't go on my own!" Harry protests, and Ron is standing up to get down, but Filch suddenly slaps the Thestral and whistles, and they set off at a smart trot. Filch grins challengingly at Harry, as if daring him to say anything that will earn him a detention.

Mumbling all the curse words Uncle Vernon had ever said in his hearing, Harry stomps over the mulch and leaves to the ball of light which represented a carriage.

As he draws closer, the carriage grows more visible, and he can see that someone is already sitting in it. A few steps more, and the profile is thrown into light. Harry does not hide his swear this time.

"Of course it would fucking be you." He huffs, climbing ungraciously into the carriage.

Malfoy smirks across the carriage at him. He is lounged comfortably across the leather seating, his legs swung comfortably up next to Harry's thigh. He looks utterly at ease, unbothered by this arrangement, and so Harry decides to humour him. No point in being the only childish one.

"So," Malfoy begins conversationally. Harry scowls and looks at him. Properly looks at him.

His hair is tousled but not messy, just a perfect mix of carelessness and elegance. He looks as if he has thinned and grew a lot since the last time Harry saw him, if that is even possible. Malfoy was the skinniest, leanest and tallest git he knew.

"Have you given any thought to our truce?" Malfoy asks, flashing white teeth at him. Harry ignores him, looking past him to the shadowy forest.

"What I don't understand, Malfoy," he says finally. "Is why you'd want a truce. You've always hated me. You have made my life as difficult as you possibly can. You are the most difficult, hateful and irritating person I've ever known. And that's after growing up with my cousin."

Malfoy pouts, hurt colouring his face. Harry does not acknowledge this; he is sure it is an act. There was some sort of ulterior motive here; he just hasn't worked it out yet.

"Maybe I've just grown up Potter." Malfoy suggests in a low, persuasive voice. "Maybe I've realised that you're a better ally than you are an enemy. And there really is nothing to accomplish from our petty fighting."

Harry finally gives in as something snaps. "Petty?" he gives a hollow laugh. "Do you not remember attempting to _Crucio_ me? Or perhaps when I slashed your skin open? Or did that escape your memory?"

Malfoy narrows his eyes, and for a brief second Harry sees real emotion flash there. But then they flicker away from him, to the four shadowy figures standing at the foot of their carriage.

"Draco?" Pansy Parkinson's voice drifts up to them, coloured with disbelief and shock. "Why are you sitting with _Potter_?"

"I was just discussing something with him," Malfoy says easily, ignoring Harry in favour of his friends. Which is fine with Harry.  
"Feel free to join us."

"We shall," A voice replies grandly, and Blaise Zabini follows Parkinson up. Crabbe and Nott silently ascend after him, their eyes wide and suspicious, trained on Harry.

With a slight jolt, the carriage moves, and Harry sighs as he is bumped awkwardly between Crabbe and Nott.

"Well this is fun." Zabini comments, his eyes amused and watching Harry. Harry steadfastly ignores both his entertained stare, and Malfoy's intense one.

Parkinson, on the other hand, his pretending he is not even present, and snuggling against Malfoy's chest. This, in turn, amuses Harry, as Malfoy does not pay her the slightest bit of attention in favour of staring openly at Harry.

Silence fills the carriage, until eventually catty remarks are exchanged about high class people Harry does not know; so and so who behaved badly at some society ball, who had a torrent affair with whom.

The only Slytherin who does not bother to offer an opinion is Malfoy, Harry realises to his surprise. He would have thought Malfoy would be the first to offer a clever remark.

Perhaps he has changed, like he's said, a tiny voice murmurs in the back of Harry's head. He ignores it, and shoves it in a soundproof corner of his brain.

They couldn't arrive at Hogwarts soon enough, and Harry leaps off the carriage the second it slows to a stop.

He is just thinking he has made it, when a cheerful voice floats to him through the darkness.

"See you later, Potter!"

"Fuck off Malfoy!" Harry calls back savagely, storming up the wet drive, rain pounding relentlessly on his back.

.-.

"How are you not wet?" Harry demands when he takes his seat at the Gryffindor table, decorating the floor with water. He is opposite a smugly dry Ron, and seated next to a similarly superior Hermione.

"Hermione knew a good umbrella spell." Ron shrugs, giving Hermione an adoring look. Harry cringes, and looks away.

"You are so soppy, it's disgusting." he opines, still looking carefully away from his best friends. Professor McGonagall is just standing up in the centre of the High Table. The sight looks alien to Harry, and he sighs at the thought of Dumblefore, as always.

"Welcome to the beginning of a new year." Professor McGonagall's eyes roam the hall, and she gives a tiny sigh. "We have all been through a lot in the last year or so. But this is year represents a new start; a chance to forgive those who perhaps made some bad choices. I do not want any grudges held in my school." Her gaze lingers over the Slytherin table, and Harry follows it, to see how the various trainee Death Eaters were responding to her words.

Crabbe and Nott have their heads bowed, Parkinson has hers held high; however Harry isn'ti entirely sure of her family's part in the war. Zabini is twirling his fork, apparently paying no heed, and Malfoy is sneering as he meets as many people's eyes as possible, as if challenging anyone to hold a grudge against him.

"But no more talk of that for now," McGonagall says, and Harry looks away from Malfoy. "Enjoy your meal. Thank you." Before them, the golden dishes fill automatically. Harry watches as Ron - apparently still hungry after his veritable feast on the train - lunges forward to snag chicken wings.

Hermione is watching him apprehensively. "Are you _ever_ full, Ronald?" she asks, wincing as chicken poked out from the corner of his mouth.

"Nope," comes a muffled voice, and Harry looks away, chuckling. He is just raising a fork of potatoes to his mouth when his wandering gaze passes over Draco Malfoy. And stops.

His eyes fixed firmly on Harry, Malfoy slowly winks once he spots he has Harry's attention, and raises a chicken wing in mock toast to Harry.

It would seem that now free of the pressures loaded on him in their last year of school together, the boy had now resumed making his life goal to get as deeplt under Harry's skin as he possibly can - and Harry concedes that only Malfoy can do just that so easily.

"Fuck off Malfoy," Harry mumbles, hastily looking at his own plate.

**Comments are loved, especially as this is new :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Elixir Of Life**

**Chapter Three**

"You look like hell," Ron comments cheerfully when Harry joins him on the way down to breakfast.

"Gee, thanks, Ron." Harry mutters, scuffing his shoe irritably. He hadn't slept well, plagued by memories of the last time he was within these stone walls. It was strange to be back.

"Harry, you look awful," Hermione gasps when Harry sits down opposite her. Harry scowls and helps himself to more egg. He huffily ignores both his friends, and stares out over the familiar breakfast scene at Hogwarts.

He determinedly does not look at the Slytherin table.

"Did you sleep well?" Hermione's voice cuts through his mental barricade.  
"I'm fine! Leave me alone, for once!" Harry snaps, jumping to his feet and deserting his short lived breakfast. He was not in the best of moods, and he knew he would take little to push him over he edge today.  
Like the blonde boy making a beeline for him, now unconsciously making himself a ticking time bomb.

"Fuck off Malfoy, I'm not in the mood," Harry mutters, stalking straight past him.

"You don't look so hot today, Potter," Malfoy calls after him, and Harry feels a muscle jump in his cheek. He takes a deep breath.

"I can hardly imagine that you'd know anything about looking hot, Malfoy." he replies coolly, not breaking his stride.

He is almost at the end of the corridor when a sentence floats back to him, so faint he supposes he could have imagined it.

"Maybe you should start imagining, then."

Sure Malfoy would never say anything so flirtatious, Harry whips around, only to see the corridor is deserted. Perhaps he was right.

But either way, it would seem that Malfoy was determined to try and irritate him as much as possible.

.-.

"Welcome back to your second year of N.E.W.T. level Potions." Slughorn says warmly, spreading his arms wide. Ron and Harry stare up at him, unsmiling. Ron, because he is so pathetically useless at Potions, and Harry because he is in a black mood.

"Now," Slughorn claps his hands together and beams over the small class. "Today we will be brewing a tricky little potion called Stupentia. The clue is in the title; it will knock the drinker unconscious. Often used for your, ah, enemies. People you want to... Incapacitate." His jovial expression disappears for a moment, and he looks at the class soberly. "Not pleasant."

"Now! You will be working in pairs today..." Inevitably, there is a flurry as people located their friends and held whispered agreements; Harry sees Ron signal to Hermione out of the corner of his eye, and sighs.

"Right, let's see..." Slughorn looks over the class quickly, pointing at pairs. "Weasely and Granger, Boot and Macmillan, Nott and Malfoy - no Miss Bulstrode today? Well that leaves Zabini and ah, Mr Potter."

Zabini visibly wrinkles his nose with distaste and frowned at Slughorn. Harry also scowls with trepidation.

He watches as Malfoy smoothly steps forward, a helpful smile on his face. "Ah, Professor - if you like, Blaise could work with Theo, and I'll work with Potter? I wouldn't mind... I don't have an aversion to him." And he grins deviously at a stunned Harry.

"Good boy!" Slughorn booms. "No emnity, that's what I like to see! Off you go then, Malfoy m'boy!"

Harry watches as Malfoy strides over with a smirk, his black robes swishing around him, a vividly stark contrast to his pale skin.

"What the fuck, Malfoy?" Harry questions in a low voice the minute he was within hearing. "'I don't have an aversion to him?' Since when?"

"Since you saved my life twice in one night," Malfoy murmurs immediately, turning eyes the colour of hard slate onto Harry. "I don't forget that sort of thing."

Harry glares at him irritably. "Seriously? That's what this is about? Malfoy I just didn't want anyone to die for my sake. It's nothing personal, I would have saved everyone if I could."

"You think I don't know that?" Malfoy scoffs . "_Saint_ Potter." he added, with the tone and a faint sneer reminiscent of his old self. Harry voices this thought.

"There is no 'old self', Potter." Malfoy chuckles, and Harry feels even more annoyed at him. "I still sneer and do all the haughty Malfoy shit to everyone else. You're just the exception." he adds softly, soft enough to make Harry throw down the knife from the onions he was chopping.

"Stop it! Just fucking stop it!" he snaps, his eyes flashing. "Stop trying to be so fucking friendly with me. It's not right, you're Malfoy! I hate you, and I always will! So give up this fucking pretence, and admit that you will too!" He breathes heavily, keeping his voice low enough not to attract attention, but with enough venom to make Malfoy's pupils dilate and his skin to flush.

"You're so fucking close minded, Potter." he hisses back, leaning over the desk towards him. "Why can't you even entertain the notion that just because my surname is Malfoy that I don't have to hate you and 'always will'? Christ, you're fucking unbelievable, you know that?"

Harry holds his intense glare for at least ten seconds, before a dry cough makes them both jump, and for the first time Harry realises how they are positioned. They are leaning over the respective edges of the desks, bodies curved towards each other, ingredients and lesson clearly abandoned, faces merely millimetres away.

They both leap back as if electrocuted, and look guiltily at Slughorn.

"Not interrupting anything, am I?" Slughorn asks in a somewhat colder tone. "Carry on with the lesson, please."

They work in silence, completely ignoring the person stood next to them. The minute the bell rings, Harry springs out of his seat and practically runs for the door.

.-.

"Potter- wait!" Draco calls in vain, remembering that he was meant to be befriending this boy, not antagonising him.

"Well done," Blaise comments, suddenly appearing at his elbow. "Beautiful performance, Draco. Tear wrenching."

"What?" Draco asks irritably, only half-listening.

"_I'll_ work with Potter, sir. I have no aversion to Potter, sir. I want to lick Potter's arse crack, sir." Blaise smirks, putting on a high and affected voice.

"Shut the fuck up." Draco mutters savagely. "You know fine well I'm only doing it because father said so. I still hate him."

"Is that so?" Blaise murmurs vaguely, as they weave through the crowded corridor.

"You don't believe me." Draco states flatly.

"Let's just put it this way," Blaise says, turning to grin at him as they descend the stairs to the dungeons. "You set out to create harmony, but ended up creating sexual tension."

"I-what?" Draco splutters, pink tinges staining his pale face. "Blaise, surely you could see that was an act. Surely. I thought, if I can't befriend him, I can try a different entry route."

"From behind," Blaise snorts, and Draco viciously shoves him down the rest of the stairs.

**_Please review and tell me your thoughts:) _**


	4. Chapter 4

**Elixir Of Life ****  
Chapter Four**

"Fucking Malfoy and his fucking pointy ferrety face," Harry fumes as he stormed into the bathroom in an attempt to calm down before he hits something. Or someone.

"Always so fucking annoying... and antagonistic." he mumbles irritably to himself, kicking his bag across the stone floor. "He's fucking up to something. He's seriously fucking thick if he thinks I believe his whole friend routine."

He splashes his face with cold water, and shivers. "He just wants to get close enough to stab me in the back," he mutters venomously, and then nods in satisfaction. He s certain he's put his finger on it.

Without bothering to dry his drilling face, Harry seizes his bag and strides out.

"Looks like The Boy Who Lived has gone for a little swim!" a voice calls out, and Harry half expects it to be Malfoy, only the voice isn't nearly arrogant and drawling enough.  
He turns around to Zacharius Smith sneering at him with a bunch of his Hufflepuff friends, all grinning in a very un-Hufflepuff like manner.

"Living isn't something you're going to be participating in in a minute, Smith," he snarls in warning, and hears two reactions. Zach huffs but pales a little, whilst a delighted laugh echoes from the moving staircases above them. This time, Harry knows who it is.

"_What_, Malfoy?" he asks irritably, without looking up.

"That was great, Potter." Malfoy snorts, walking down the stone stairs towards him. "I might have to use that one in the future."

Harry risks a glance at him, to see Malfoy isn't actually taunting him, but has a genuinely amused look on his face. Harry can also see surprise on it, as if Malfoy hadn't thought Harry capable of being witty.  
Good, Harry thinks grimly.

"I think you've got enough insults in your arsenal, actually." he says instead.

"You can never have too many insults." Malfoy retorts immediately.

"Typical Slytherin reply." Harry shoots back, no longer bothering to pretend he's watching Smith.

"Is that meant to offend me?" Malfoy asks with a smirk. "If it was, it failed. Sorry, Potter."

"Wow, that was rare." Harry replies immediately, with narrowed eyes that do not betray how much fun he is having with this verbal battle.

"What was, you being witty for once? I know." Malfoy says quickly, his smirk only widening.

"No, you apologising, Malfoy." Harry shoots back, thrusting his hand in his pocket. Malfoy's pale eyes linger over the casual movement, before they are turning back to Harry, slightly harder and less amused.

"It's the curse of being a Malfoy." he says quietly. "The inability to ever accept you are in the wrong."

As Harry is sure Malfoy intended, he is thrown for a minute. That remark sounded sincere for once, but Malfoy's tone had a flicker of something else. Self hatred? Disgust?

Harry realises that Malfoy may not have entirely embraced his family's attitude to life and reputation.

Perhaps even the Death Eater reputation-

"Have I finally silenced the great Potter?" Malfoy cuts across his thoughts in a quiet voice. His demeanour is neither as cool nor confident as it had been moments before. In fact, he looks slightly worried, as if he'd revealed too much about himself.

"I was just thinking," Harry mumbles, looking away from Malfoy at last. His mind helpfully provided images of Malfoy lowering his wand at the last second on the Astronomy tower - and for the first time, Harry considered the possibility that Malfoy hadn't even chosen the life of a Death Eater-

"Oh, then Lord help us all, Potty is thinking." Malfoy exclaims, a faint sneer playing across his face. Harry finds himself smiling slightly, in spite of himself, and hurriedly stops. He wasn't amused by Malfoy. He wasn't.

In an effort to distract himself from the slightly worrying thought that he definitely _wasn't_ going to pay any heed to, he looks around see how Smith and his friends are taking this. He is astonished to see they've gone without him noticing - in fact the corridor and all the stairs are deserted. Harry wonders how that happened without him noticing.

"Shit!" he swears, seizing his bag from the floor - he doesn't remember putting it down to talk to Malfoy either - and shoots Malfoy an irritated look.

"Now look what you've done, you twat!" he fires, and any tentative amusement they had just enjoyed together in their verbal sparring is destroyed as Malfoy's face hardens.

"What the fuck am I supposed to have done, Potter? Just so I know?"

"I'm fucking late to Transfigurations now, thanks to you!" Harry snarls, setting off at a smart pace. He is surprised to hear Malfoy's smart footsteps behind him.

"Thanks to me?" Malfoy asks in disbelief, now caught up to Harry. His face is twisted in irritation.

"You deliberately delayed me to make me late to class!" Harry exclaims without thinking. He is shocked when, a moment later, Malfoy shoves him roughly into the wall.

"I'm in your Transfigurations class too, Potter, in case you hadn't noticed!" he half shouts in anger. "Why would I want to make myself late?! You're not exactly worth it!"

"Gee, thanks Malfoy." Harry spits, striding to catch up with him. "What happens to trying to be my friend? Calling a truce?"

Malfoy's face pales for a second, and Harry frowns. He hadn't expected that reaction.

"I'm still trying," Malfoy muttered roughly, turning his face to the ground.

As quick as lightning, his expression clears and he flashes a smile at Harry as they reach the Transfiguration door.

"And it's working, Potter."

"I assure you, it isn't." Harry snorts derisively, not taking his eyes off Malfoy's glittering ones.

"Oh yes, it is," Malfoy replies with a superior smirk. "You're beginning to like me. Or why else would you you look so flushed, and have that stupid little smile on your face?"

Harry started to say something, disagree profusely, but then he realised that he actually _was_ smiling. He hadn't even realised.

"Or are you blushing for another reason, Scarhead?" Malfoy asks deviously, his pale hand resting on the doorknob. "Because, now I am the one to assure _you_, that could work just as well as friendship."

And as Harry's jaw dropped, Malfoy pushed open the door with a smirk on his face and left Harry open-mouthed in the corridor. And definitely not blushing.

.-.

Needless to say, Harry did not concentrate much on Transfiguration that lesson. He was too busy puzzling why he had enjoyed talking to Malfoy so much, why he had been left the way he had been.

A tiny part of his brain told him that it was because Malfoy was actually quite clever and funny when he wanted to be, and Harry had really liked talking to someone like that, deep down. It wasn't like talking to Hermione, because all though she was just as intellectually stimulating, she wasn't as capricious as Malfoy, didn't insult him playfully, keeping him on his toes.

And it wasn't like talking to Ron, although he would casually insult Harry too, he wasn't quite as graceful with his words, nor was his humour so clever and subtle.

That small part of his brain insisted that he had enjoyed it so much because Malfoy provided an excellent person for him to - interact with - for want of a better word.

But he firmly ignored this, as the thought of thinking of Malfoy in a positive manner terrified him. So he settled for his previous theory - it was all just a ploy to make Harry trust him, before trapping him.

"Potter?" A irritable and very much Scottish voice cuts through his thoughts and he jumps guiltily.

"Um," he says nervously, looking into the stern face of McGonagall.

He glances swiftly at Hermione who pointedly ignores him, apparently choosing now to desert him and punish him for not paying attention. Ron shrugs cluelessly and grimaces apologetically next to her.

The classroom is silent as Professor McGonagall waits for an answer, and a dry cough catches his attention.

Malfoy is twisted round in his seat, away from McGonagal, mouthing "_Because_ _the mass is too great_," at him.

Harry blinks in surprise and decides impulsively to trust his answer.

"Er, because the mass is too great." he tells McGonagall, whose eyes are narrowed, before she sniffs and nods slowly.

"That _is_ correct, Potter." she says, sounding as if she doesn't believe it herself. She fixes Harry with a stare that makes him swallow nervously.

"How fortunate."

Once she has turned away, Harry nods stiffly, towards Malfoy, who flashes white teeth at him in a curved smile.

Harry shakes his head slightly in confusion; Malfoy changed his behaviour quicker than Dudley gained weight, and that was saying something. It was as if he kept restraining himself from being dislikable (for once), when it came to Harry.

.-.

After McGonagall set them a particularly vicious essay, which Harry was sure was in no small way a punishment for his lack of attention, he, Hermione and Ron settled down together in front of the fire to attempt it.

"What-?" Harry frowns as he squinted at the essay title in the soft light. "'Explain how the theory behind the transformation from an animate object to an inanimate one'? We haven't even done this yet!"

"Yes we have, Harry." Hermione says, looking at him as if he was stupid. "This is all we did today, animate and inanimate."

"No we didn't, we did..." Harry scrambled through his memory of the lesson, but all he remembered was trying to work Draco Malfoy out. He really hadn't taken in anything else.

"Ah, fuck," he swears softly. "I couldn't even tell you how they transform, never mind the theory behind it."

"Copy your notes then, mate. S'what I'm doing." Ron advises, ignoring Hermione's tutting.

Harry pulls a face. "I don't even remember writing down any notes," he admits, and searched through his bag to find that he was, indeed, correct.

Ron looks at him with a 'I-can't-really-do-anything-about-that' face, and Harry groans. "Let me copy yours, please Hermione. I really can't write mine."

"Do you really think I'm going to let you do that? How are you supposed to learn what everyone else already knows if you just copy me?" she admonishes. Seeing his helpless look, she sighs. "Go to the library and read up on it, for God's sake."

Harry scowls at her.  
"Excellent, thanks Hermione. Now I'm going to have to learn the whole lesson as well as the homework."

Hermione shrugs and turns back to her own essay. Ron looks at him helplessly as Harry gathers up his bag and meanders toward the library.

"This is what Draco Malfoy does to you," he tells himself sternly. "Ruins your school work, just after one conversation. Imagine being friends with him..."

He breaks off his internal monologue to imagine just that. He then shakes himself hurriedly, and is extremely relived, for once, to see the library.

Five minutes later and he is stood in front of a very large shelf, squinting at hundreds of similar sounding titles. _Transfiguration Today_, _An Intermediate's Guide to_ _Transfiguration_, _Advanced Transfiguration_...

He would be here all evening trying to find the relevant information.

Suddenly, a leather bound book shoots off the shelf, straight towards Harry's groin. With reflexes only a Seeker could have, he swoops down and caught it, before frowning at it.  
"_N.E.W.T Level Transfiguration for the Young Witch And Wizard_".

Harry flicks through it hastily to see an entire chapter dedicated to animate and inanimate objects. It couldn't be chance that exactly the right book had just _launched_ itself at him, and he hurried round the other side of the shelf to see who had sent it to him.

The aisle was empty.  
Feeling slightly foolish, Harry jogs down to the next aisle, to see the same thing. Whoever had helped him has slipped away quickly, anonymously.

Finding all the cloak and dagger extremely strange (it was just a book!) he returns to his bag, thinking hard.

Then inspiration struck. Rifling quickly through his messy bag, he finally extracts the parchment he was looking for.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

.-.

Draco has no idea what had possessed him. Really.

He had been full of beans all day (or so an irritated Blaise had told him) and being a clever boy, he knows exactly what the catalyst was.

He can still remember the sensation now. His blood running hot in his veins, his heart pounding excitedly, finally able to show off in front of Potter. He had dealt as good as he got, firing off witty insult after witty insult, delighted he finally had Potter's full attention.

It had upset him when, for a second time, Potter had rebuked his offer of friendship. First year perhaps it was understandable, but now? Draco was hurt. He had saved Potter's life, and he saved his, and Draco had been perfectly charming yesterday on the carriage to Hogwarts.

As a consequence, he had been extremely frustrated to find his usually enticing charm had had no effect whatsoever on Potter.

With his father's request in mind, he had started today afresh, deciding to try a different tact - impress him with his words, and his generally charming personality.

But it had gone wrong, he had got too involved, which was current preoccupation - why on earth had he just done that? Helped Potter anonymously?! With his school work?!

It wasn't the helping bit he had issue with, actually. That would only help towards the cause, bring Potter one step closer to being his friend. But the fact that he did it anonymously, and slipped away? All that meant was that he wouldn't get the credit for helping now!

And that worried him because he knew that in that second in the library, he hadn't been concerned with getting in Potter's good books; he had just wanted to help him out of the goodness of his heart, genuinely wanting to please him.

If that wasn't worrying, he didn't know what was, because that meant he actually liked Potter as a person, not as a target. Which wasn't part of his father's plan at all. He also had a niggling feeling that flirting with Potter wasn't intended either.

The worst thing of all was that he actually _wanted_ to flirt with Potter.

Life had got so much more complicated since Harry Potter was introduced into it, Draco groans, rubbing his left forearm absently.

.-.

Harry's eyes flicker straight to the library inked on the map. There he was, the little dot labelled '_Harry Potter_'... there was Ernie MacMillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley sitting at a table nearby, and somehow Harry doubts it was either of them...

A rapidly moving dot caught his eye, and he stares at it, stupefied but not entirely surprised.

So Draco Malfoy was his mystery benefactor. Which didn't actually make sense, now he came to think about it.

Why would Malfoy help him anonymously? He had made out that his big concern was getting Harry to be his friend - but as far as Malfoy knew, Harry would have been none the wiser to his help - Malfoy wouldn't have benefited from helping at all.

Unless... But no.

Unless Malfoy had just wanted to simply help him, without trying to make a show of it? Unless Malfoy had been genuine all along, unless... he really did want to be his friend, with honest intentions?

Well this changed things, he thinks, his finger absently tracing the path the little dot was making on the map.

Life had got so much more complicated since Draco Malfoy was introduced into it, Harry reflects, banging his head against the table.

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